


Saccharine

by holograms



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Hand Feeding, Licking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/pseuds/holograms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex probably doesn’t mean for it to be seductive but it is, the way his eyes close as he sucks his own fingers clean, licks the length of each long digit to make sure he gets every drop of the sweet treat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saccharine

**Author's Note:**

> sherlockianliza and I were talking about now both Ham and Burr probably loved fruit (well we know Burr did because he always mentioned it in his journals) and would bicker over which is best, and then this kind of developed

“This was a wonderful idea,” Alex says.

Aaron thinks that it’s a good idea, too — especially as he watches Alex slowly eat a chocolate-covered strawberry. He thinks that he savors watching Alex eat it as much as Alex enjoys eating it himself.

It had been Alex’s idea. “Fondue night!” he had said, grinning — he was obviously proud. He paused from his bustle around the kitchen. “That’s a thing people do, right? I read it’s supposed to be intimate?” 

Aaron had leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, fighting the urge to tell Alex that cutting up assorted fruit they already had in the apartment and microwaving chocolate in a salad bowl hardly constitutes as _sexy._ However, Alex already cut up the pineapple that Aaron had been saving and well, Alex was trying, so Aaron shrugged his shoulders and said, “Yeah, sounds nice.”

And it’s actually _very_ nice. They're sitting together on the sofa, and Alex presses into Aaron’s side every time he leans forward to pluck a piece of fruit off the plate they’re sharing, his hand hovering over the plate like he’s deciding which to choose. When Alex finally makes his selection he dips it into the chocolate, usually getting his fingers coated with some of the chocolate — and Aaron can’t even be mad about the mess of it because of the way Alex takes pleasure in it. Alex probably doesn’t mean for it to be seductive but it _is,_ the way his eyes close as he sucks his own fingers clean, licks the length of each long digit to make sure he gets every drop of the sweet treat.

And just—damn it, Aaron stalls holding some dried coconut between his fingertips as he watches Alex. He’s transfixed.

Alex enjoys the finer things in life — expensive clothes, fancy electronic gadgets, rich foods — and he enjoys these indulgences greatly, as if each time will be his last to experience it. He lives full, fucks hard, doesn’t stop.

And Aaron is addicted to him.

Alex’s eyes flutter open, and he slides his fingers out of his mouth with a _pop._ Aaron tries to say something, but he can’t seem to make words happen, so he shoves the coconut in his mouth instead.

Alex’s mouth hitches into a grin.

“Eating fruit reminds me of home,” he says, and it doesn’t have the terseness that’s usually there when he talks of his time before immigrating to America. It’s fond. Aaron is glad that Alex has some good memories of the place, instead of it all being associated with death, poverty, loss, a struggle to survive.

“There were fruit stands everywhere on the island,” Alex explains, as he carefully picks up a piece of pineapple, and then dips it in the chocolate. This time, he manages to not completely drown his fingers into it, and then he places it in his mouth. He talks around it as he says, “All types of fruit, fresh from harvest. And it was really good too — there were mangos bigger than my hand.”

Aaron can’t help but notice Alex is speaking in the past tense, as if all that doesn’t exist anymore. He supposes it doesn’t, not for Alex.

Lost in the memory, Alex continues, “There was this one vender who would give me and my brother free stuff after my mother—”

He abruptly stops and there’s a flicker of distress that appears across his features; eyebrows knitted together, a distant look in his eyes, crestfallen expression. It’s like he’s shocked, like the memory is an old wound he forgets he has until there’s the pain of it being torn open again.

Aaron tries to imagine it — twelve-year-old Alex getting pity roadside fruit because of his dead mom and deadbeat dad. It’s difficult to think of Alex as a child; to Aaron, Alex exists as he always has, unchanging. Aaron wants to ask him more, say, _do you want to talk about it?_ because Alex looks so troubled, and because Aaron _wants_ to know more about this part of Alex’s life — Alex shares so much of himself so freely, for him to keep parts of himself at bay makes Aaron crave the details even more.

But he doesn’t. If Alex doesn’t talk about something that means he doesn’t want to discuss it, because Alex usually talks about everything until there’s nothing else to say, and then some. 

So Aaron doesn’t press, and waits through Alex’s rare silence. It doesn’t last too long — Alex recovers quickly, and flashes his best _I’m okay_ grin at Aaron and then eats another bite of chocolate-smothered pineapple.

Alex is saying something, moved on to another topic, but Aaron can’t focus because there’s a smear of chocolate on the side of Alex’s mouth, right at the junction of his lips.

It’s incredibly distracting.

“You’ve got—right there,” Aaron says. His first instinct is to reach out his hand to touch Alex and wipe it clean himself, but then draws his hand back and clenches his fist, and instead gestures on himself where the chocolate is on Alex’s face.

Because Alex is who is he is, he notices Aaron’s hesitation. “Oh?” Alex says, and it should be a crime that his mock coquettishness is that sexy, and it’s definitely an offense when he darts out his tongue in one quick sweep to clean the chocolate from the corner of his mouth, leaving his lips shiny from both his saliva and juice from the fruit.

Aaron feels his face growing warm. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

“Very,” Alex says, and his smug smirk ensures it. He is ridiculous, and Aaron finds himself having to bite down on a smile of his own. Alex may be aggravating, but he’s _his_ aggravation.

Satisfied with winning a smile from Aaron, Alex leans forward to pick up another chunk of pineapple. He makes a show of shoving the too-big piece in his mouth and licking his fingers clean.

“Stop, you’re eating all the pineapple,” Aaron says. He points to the plate. “Eat some coconut.”

Alex swallows, and then makes a disgusted face. “Gross.”

“Slander!” Coconut is Aaron’s favorite — Alex just has bad taste. “C’mon, don’t be so stubborn.”

Alex narrows his eyes, and Aaron is prepared to hear a speech about why coconut offends him. But then Alex grabs the last two pieces of pineapple, dunks them into the chocolate, and then shovels it all into his mouth.

Aaron is sure Alex eats the rest of it just to spite him. _How mature_ , Aaron thinks, but then he doesn’t know why he’s surprised that his boyfriend does things like this. It’s a typical Alexander move, and when Aaron looks to Alex, he has to laugh.

In his rush to devour the fruit, Alex got chocolate all over his face — on his chin, in his beard, on his cheek, and a bit on his nose. If Alex knows it’s there, he doesn’t seem concerned, but Aaron figures Alex must know, judging by the way he’s proudly beaming at Aaron.

“You can’t even eat without getting it all over you,” Aaron says, and Alex still doesn’t bother to clean it off, instead he shrugs and asks, “What are you going to do about it?”

Aaron knows what he should do; he should toss Alex a napkin and tell him to clean his face and stop acting like a petulant child. He should make every effort to not encourage behaviors like this from Alex. 

Should. 

“Close your eyes,” Aaron says. Alex tilts his head, curious, but his eyes flutter shut as a sly grin creeps on his face and says, “Sure, sir.”

Aaron waits for a moment to take it all in — the messy smudges of chocolate on Alex’s face, the fine sweep of his nose, the lines around his mouth that form when he smiles, the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, the bow of his lips — Alex is art, poetry.

Eyes still closed, Alex leans forward to kiss Aaron, but Aaron puts his hand on his shoulder to keep him away. Alex whines and clutches at Aaron’s thigh, but when Aaron tells him, “hush,” he quiets, but sulks. 

It’s hard to deny Alex when he begs so beautifully, so Aaron takes a piece of fruit — a raspberry, because Aaron can’t stop thinking about how lovely the red of it would look stained on Alex’s lips — and places it at Alex’s mouth and says, “Open.”

Alex parts his lips willingly, his tongue flicking out to capture the berry. Aaron keeps his fingers resting on Alex’s lips as Alex rolls it in his mouth and then bites down, Aaron gasping when Alex’s front teeth nip at his fingertips.

There’s a teasing look about Alex as Aaron draws his hand back — his brow arched, his eyes sharp, hungry, dangerous.

“Be careful,” Alex warns. “I bite.”

Aaron is glad that Alex’s eyes are still closed and cannot see his stupid grin. “It’s unwise to bite the hand that feeds you,” Aaron says. He aims for seriousness, but it comes as out banter — Alex responds by bearing his teeth and growling, before opening his mouth for more, inviting.

Damn him and that mouth.

Alex doesn’t bite him this time, but he does take Aaron’s fingers into his mouth, sucking at the chocolate coating his fingers. At first, Aaron stills, watching as Alex unabashedly works his mouth around his fingers, but then the tiny moans Alex is making and the heat twisting in his stomach is too much, and he curls his fingers against Alex’s tongue.

When Alex looks at Aaron, his eyes are heavy with lust and it _burns_ , and Aaron’s breath catches in this throat. He presses his fingers into the soft part of Alex’s inner cheek, testing to see Alex’s reaction and it’s _beautiful_ — he lets out soft whimper, shudders, and then wraps his hand around Aaron’s wrist and guides Aaron’s fingers deeper into his mouth. Aaron tucks a strand of Alex’s hair that fell out of his ponytail and into his face behind his ear, and moves his hand to brace the back of Alex’s neck. Alex slowly pulls off Aaron’s fingers before sliding back down them, running his tongue underneath as he takes them in all the way — and it’s obscene, the way Alex takes it so well, like his mouth is made for exclusively wicked things.

Spit drips down Aaron’s wrist as Alex continues to suck and lick as his fingers, and Aaron is too occupied watching Alex’s mouth that he doesn’t notice Alex move his hand to palm at the hardness straining in Aaron’s pants — of which, Aaron had been trying to ignore. Aaron presses up into Alex’s touch and groans, his hand tightening in Alex’s hair.

He needs more of Alex — he wants to taste him.

Using the grip on Alex’s hair, Aaron tugs his hair to pull Alex off of his fingers. Alex tightens his lips around them as he drags them out of his mouth, and makes a keening noise at the back of his throat at the absence of them.

Alex is a wreck — his face is flushed, his hair disheveled from where Aaron has his hand fisted in it, lips shiny and swollen, his eyes glazed over, and there’s still chocolate on his face. 

Aaron wonders what it tastes like on Alex — if it’s sweeter.

What _is_ sweet is Alex gasping out Aaron’s name when Aaron licks a broad stripe on his cheek. Aaron licks him again, and decides that _yes,_ it does taste sweeter on Alex.

He alternates sloppy kisses with tiny, delicate licks to get the chocolate off. He frames Alex’s face with his hands as he attends to every part of Alex — his chin, his nose, the place where he has dimples only when he smiles really hard — and Alex writhes at Aaron’s touch, arching his body into his and wrapping his arms around his middle to pull him closer, saying, “please, Aaron, _please_ ,” like he wants to be overwhelmed, consumed.

Aaron keeps at it until his lips find Alex’s, and Alex thrusts his tongue in against Aaron’s and moans deeply against his mouth. There’s the faint taste of chocolate, the tang of pineapple, and that of which is specifically Alex — and Aaron can’t help but let himself indulge in him, entirely.

When Alex pulls away, Aaron leans into him, searching to kiss him again. It’s unfair that Alex gets him this hooked on him, and he tells him so, because Alex has to know the burden he’s brought into his life.

But Alex just grins and whispers, “That was my plan all along,” into his ear.

As Aaron lets Alex drag him down on top of him and kiss him breathless, he almost feels gluttonous in this fine indulgence.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at tumblr @[acanofpeaches](http://acanofpeaches.tumblr.com)!


End file.
